Sunday, December 30, 2012

On Christmas Eve, I carefully unwrapped the moist brown
paper covering one of two loaves of fruitcake and cut a few slices.Fruitcake is like that; it’s rich, you only
want a slice at the time.This is my
first ever fruitcake and it had spent the previous two weeks soaking up
bourbon.Since then, the first loaf is
gone and I’m into the second one.I
shouldn’t say I am into it, because I’ve limited myself to a slice a day and
most of the first loaf was enjoyed by others.I’m trying my best to redeem fruitcake’s status from primarily serving
as the blunt of jokes.

The cake is good, but when I do it again, I’m going to
dramatically increase the amount of nuts.Here is my recipe:

Fruit mixture with buttered pans

Mix in a big bowl:½
cup of red cherries (cut in half), ½ cup of green cherries (cut in half) Cup of
diced pineapple, 2 cups of Old English fruit and peel mix, cup of chopped
pecans, cup of currants, cup of raisins, cut of chopped dates, juice and pulp
from 8 citrons, 2 teaspoons of grated orange peel.Add ½ cup of thawing orange juice frozen
concentrate, and ½ cup of bourbon (I used Jim Beam).Let it sit for a few hours to soak up the
bourbon.

Butter the bottom and sides of two standard bread pans, then
line with paper and butter the paper.

This step is best done with a stand mixer: Put 1 ½ cups of
butter (room temperature) in a large mixing bowl and cream, gradually adding 2
cups of brown sugar. Then add the egg yokes and gradually add flour mixture
until all is mixed in with the butter and sugar.Then add ½ cup of molasses.Next, stir in the fruit mixture.Set aside.

Fruitcake soaking up bourbon

Beat the egg whites till they form stiff peaks.Fold egg whites into the dough and mix
thoroughly, then spoon into two bread pans.Cover with cloth and let it sit over night.

Heat oven to 250 degrees.Bake bread for an hour, then cover the pans with paper and bake another
3.5 hours (toothpick should come out clean).Let bread cool in pans, and then remove.Wrap bread with paper that’s been soaked in bourbon.Place bread in closed but not sealed container
(I used a large plastic cake container) and add bourbon to the paper every few
days.Let is age for 2 weeks, then
enjoy.

Have you ever had good fruitcake? If not, you don't know what you're missing but I'd still like to hear your favorite fruitcake joke?

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Sometime
during the Midnight Mass at St. Mary’s of the Mountain, the zephyr pounding
Virginia City blew itself out.A small group
of us who’d spent the evening together stepped out into the cold. It was now Christmas
morning. We were decked out in boots, heavy coats, scarves, gloves and hats.The snow squeaked under our feet and the air calm.We wasted no time and
immediately began to walk in an attempt to stay warm.Overhead, Orion tilted a little toward Mt.
Bullion and the rest of my favorite winter constellations were flickering
brightly: Orion’s faithful dog, the twins, the bull, the charioteer, the seven
sisters.Only a few clouds, sheer-like, remained from the storm.We made our way
up Taylor Street, toward the lighted “V” high on Mt. Davidson.A month earlier, before the first big snow, I’d
spent Saturday afternoon with Karl and Dave.Together, we hauled loads of wire and strings of lights up the mountain
and ran the lights around the whitewashed V that had been painted on rocks in a
section where the sagebrush had been clipped.The painted rocks were now buried under the snow, but the lights stood
out brightly and served as a beacon as we headed uphill.

The town was
quiet as everyone had settled in for a long winter
night.There were a few frosted windows
with warm inviting lights, most windows were dark.The air smelled of burning pinion from wood
stoves which provided heat for many homes on the Comstock, and the smoke rose into
the sky as an offering to the stars.We
passed the school and D Street, and climbed another block to C Street.This was the busy street in town, but now all
was quiet.The Ponderosa, the saloon on
the southwest side of C Street, and the Mark Twain to the north, were both
closed for the night.Perhaps another
bar was open—the Union Brewery, the Silver Queen, the Bucket of Blood, Julia Bulette—there were plenty of bars and generally at least a couple were open. But
we were tired and ready for bed.We wished
one another Merry Christmas in the cold, our breath puffing smoke like a steam
engine, and said our goodbyes.A couple
headed south on C Street, toward the Divide, others to their homes to the north. Victor, Jeannie and I continued
on climbing.At B Street, we split up as
Jeannie made her way up to her house on A Street, Victor to his apartment and
me to my small home.

But before going inside, I stopped for a
moment to look around. To the north, above the courthouse, were the northern
constellations: the big and little dipper and the dragon whose tail seems to
wind around that part of the sky.I then
looked back to the east, down Taylor Street into Six Mile Canyon.All seems quiet and tranquil as smoke rose
from chimneys of homes.I was happy and
content even though this was my Christmas without any family.I went inside and instead of turning up the
heat, pulled out another blanket for my bed and crawled in and was soon
asleep.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

As you can
all see, I haven’t been blogging much lately.Life has been busy and I’ve been preoccupied with other things.I even missed by 8th blog
anniversary earlier this month.But life
is good and since I don’t expect the world is going to end tomorrow, I thought
I’d stop by blogland long enough to let everyone know I’ve not experienced an
early Mayan apocalypse.

I thought
several times about addressing what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School in
Newtown, Connecticut.When I first heard
the news last Friday afternoon, I was even more shocked to realize that while
it was happening, I was at our local pool, volunteering to teach swimming to
elementary kids.What a tragedy, but
everyone else has been talking about it where there isn’t a lot that can be
said.I suppose that, in a way, talking
about it is the only thing those far away can do to show they stand beside
those grieving.But sometimes the news
media seems so invasive of privacy that I get sick of watching it.And also, I wonder what’s happening in the
rest of the world.Midweek, I finally
switched over the BBC to check and see if North Korea armed any of their
rockets or if the Syrian nerve gas was leaking in our direction.We live in a crazy world.Christmas is supposed to be the celebration
of the birth of the Prince of Peace, a birth that was marred by Herod’s killings
of the innocent.The world remains in a
fallen estate and we hope and pray.

Maybe I
should talk about the weather.Interestingly,
the grass this morning was greener than it was in July!Tonight, we may get some snow but that’s what
they also said last night and all we got was rain—lots of rain.It doesn’t yet feel like Christmas, but on
the other side of the big lake they’re getting plenty of snow.Maybe the ground will be white by the 25th.

If I don’t
get back to you beforehand, have yourselves a Merry Christmas.At some point, I will post (with photos) my
new Christmas tradition—fruitcake. I had to scourer over three counties to find
all the ingredients and about burn up a mixer, but the cake is baked and currently
aging (wrapped in paper that’s soaked in bourbon every couple of days). As I’ve been saying, it’s either going to be
very good or a waste of good corn squeezing.

Musings

This blog contains observations on life and nature written by Sage, satire and parody written by Nevada Jack, and an occasional book review or poem. As a general rule, the author of the blog doesn't write about his work or his family. Email at sagecoveredhills [at] gmail.com